But Smile No More

The sun was low in the sky when Loki sought his brother for the evening meal and he found Thor at the balcony overlooking the city.  He studied his brother’s profile as he approached, the blue skin that should have been Loki’s own.  “Thor?”

Thor didn’t turn but made a grunt in reply as Loki joined him.

“Enjoying the view?”  Loki tried.

“Not really.”  Thor replied curtly.

Loki wasn’t sure what to make of that or what to respond to fill the awkward silence.  He cleared his throat before he asked.  “Will you still join us for a meal?”

Thor was silent a few seconds before he exhaled slowly and pulled away from the balcony.  “If I must.”

-

The sight of the city and the events of the day turned Thor’s mind to his son.  He could imagine his son, curious and playful, engaging in an activity like tree-climbing with relish.  His son would surely have marveled at the Bifrost.

Thor closed his eyes as he imagined his last moments with his son.  The fragile weight in his arms, the rasp of his last breaths, the image blurred by Thor’s own tears as he tried to keep strong for his boy-

-Thor’s eyes opened as he blanked his expression upon hearing Loki’s approach.  The As had as piss-poor of timing as ever, but then, was there ever a good time for the irritating Asgardian?

The pair headed along and Thor wasn’t inclined to speak, a fact it seemed Loki garnered soon enough as he gave up trying.  Thor would have preferred to sit with Frigga, or for them to dine alone, but as before he sat across from her with Loki at his side.

“Good evening.”  Frigga said pleasantly as she smiled at the pair.  “How was your day?”  she asked of Thor.

He was torn between the interest he had in the woman and the desire to remain aloof in the presence of the Allfather and Loki.  “Well enough.”  he said, a little gruffly.  “Asgard is a strange realm.”

“How so?”  Frigga asked.

Thor scrunched his nose lightly.  “Magic fountains.”

Odin’s brow furrowed while Loki snorted a bit and clarified.  “The wishing fountain in the city plaza.  Thor had never seen the like.”  Not in ‘this’ lifetime, at least.

Frigga chuckled.  “You did not enjoy it?”

Thor gave her a skeptical look.  “Why lie to your children?  Why waste the coin?”

Loki still had the re-gifted coin from Thor in his pocket.  For his complaint, he had still played along to pay favor to the boy he’d ‘helped’ from the tree.  “Is there nothing similar on Jotunheim?  A game or story for the children?  You must have had something?”  he prompted as he saw an opportunity to fish for information about his brother’s life on Jotunheim.

Thor cast him a blank, sidelong glance before he saw Frigga’s attentiveness and shrugged.  “I was not raised as other children.”

“How do you mean?”  Frigga asked.

Thor’s gaze fell to the table a moment as he seemed to struggle with some internal matter before he said quietly.  “I was raised to hunt.”

Frigga and Loki had no visible reaction, but Odin’s expression registered surprise.  “I had thought that practice a myth, or long passed.”

“What practice?”  That from Loki whose brow furrowed.

“A myth.”  Thor repeated with a hollow chuckle.  “Another nightmare to frighten your children with.  No, old man, there is no myth to rival what Jotunheim has become.”

“Thor.”  Frigga and Loki each spoke his name, in light chastisement and in surprise at the address of Odin as ‘old man’.

Odin seemed unconcerned about it as he stared at Thor.  “The practice existed long before I claimed the Casket.”

“’Claimed’.”  Thor repeated.  “Stole.”  he corrected with a note of disgust.  “The hunt mattered less when resources were plentiful.”

“There was never plenty on Jotunheim.”  Odin countered.

“There was enough.”  Thor snapped.

Frigga held up a hand lest the conversation grow too heated.  “Pray, explain what you speak of.  I fear that I am missing greater context.”

Thor and Odin stared at each other across the table as if in conversation with their gaze.  And then Thor’s lips curved into the mocking facsimile of a smile.  “I would hear the Allfather explain what he knows of our myths.”

“A waste of breath when we could have the truth from you directly.”  Odin said mildly.

“The truth.  Would you trust the word of a Jotun?”

“Have you a reason to lie about this?”  Odin asked.

Thor’s expression twisted a moment before he said.  “How does one hunt on Asgard?  If you sought game?”

Loki, with a start, realized there was a subtle shift in the pattern and inflection of Thor’s speech, more reminiscent of the Thor he knew.  What was he to make of that?

Odin considered the question before he replied.  “A hunting party may be formed.  We wield the weapons of the hunt to which we prefer and often have a target of game in mind.  Depending on the hunt, we may use a creature to assist the endeavor.  One to chase and seek, or collect game.”

“What kind of creature?”  Thor asked lowly.

“Like as not, a bird or a dog.”

Thor hummed a reply as he pressed his thumb against the length of a fork.  “A hunting dog.  And how might you raise such a beast?”

Loki was not sure where his brother intended the line of conversation to go, but any direction he pondered he found he did not like the implications of.

“It varies.”  Odin said plainly, but with a strangely sympathetic cast to his expression that Loki found at odds with the conversation.  “It is common to socialize the animal first.  To explore the lands, perhaps to use decoys to accustom the dog to seeking, to teach the dog not to be wary of weapons.  Rewards may be used, a treat or praise for a job well done."

”A treat or praise.”  Thor murmured.  “How pleasant.” he said in a tone that suggested he found it anything but.

“I did not know Jotunheim had dogs.”  Loki finally spoke.  “How…are they trained?”

Thor stared hard at Loki a moment as if he took Loki’s words for mockery.  But then he shook his head.  “Not pleasantly.  Hunts are rarely done for sport now, with food so scarce.”

Loki noted the alteration in verbiage and wondered if Thor was even aware of it.

“Hunts are necessary.  But many beasts of Jotunheim are…fierce.  It is easy to die in pursuit of a meal.  So our…hunting dogs are raised to hunt.”

Loki was surprised at that, how fierce must the dogs of Jotunheim be that it was possible to train them to handle game that even a Jotun found difficult to face?  And how could one train a dog to act so against self-preservation?

“Then how are they trained?”  Frigga repeated Loki’s question with a concerned expression.

Thor’s gaze flicked to the queen before he replied.  “You would not like the answer.”

She lifted a brow.  “And yet I would not shy from hearing it.  I am no maiden, Thor.”  Frigga was every inch a warrior queen, a daughter of Vanaheim.

“...As you wish…hunger, fear, and violence are powerful motivators.”  Thor said.  “If a…dog…cannot hunt, it cannot eat.  If it cannot fight, it will die.  Few Jotnar have the power to support the training of such.  There is no mercy shown.  And those that survive fight viciously and track without rival.”

Loki felt a sinking feeling as he recalled how readily Thor found the murdered man.  “There are no ‘dogs’ on Jotunheim, are there?”  he asked quietly, although it was more a statement.

Thor’s lips curled into another false smile.  “No, we have no such beasts.”

“Enough.”  Odin said, not unkindly though Loki was aghast and would hear more.  “It is enough.”

“You started this, and now would end it?”  Thor asked coolly.

Loki wanted to ask questions, he wanted a proper explanation, he wanted to understand fully what Thor implied.

“It is not a matter to be spoken of lightly.”

Thor seemed disdainful at Odin’s words but shrugged as he shoved a piece of frozen meat into his mouth.

The rest of the dinner fell into milder topics, and mentions of the introduction Thor was to be given on the morrow.  He seemed willing still to attend, if only for Frigga’s sake, and she gave him a tender stroke of his hair as she bade him good night.

Loki again found himself Thor’s escort to his room and his mind fit to burst from the arrival of even more questions about Thor’s life on Jotunheim.  Thor, the slayer of frost giants, the wielder of Mjolnir, the Golden Prince of Asgard…a…hunting dog?  Because he was a runt, or was that a fate any frost giant could be made to have?

Thor had answered but had seemed less than pleased and Loki knew he was on thin ice as it was, particularly after his not-quite-accusation of Thor’s performance at the farm.  He watched Thor from his periphery and thought there was a faintly different air to the way Thor walked.  Was it simply wishful thinking?

“Tomorrow you will be introduced as a nephew of the Allfather.”  Loki commented.

“That was made clear already.”  Thor sounded annoyed.

“There will be much attention paid you.  But no one will be able to disrespect you lightly.”

Thor snorted.  “Call me whatever you like, As.  Your people will still see a monster.”

“Then they see wrongly.”  Loki offered, a foolish sentiment because Thor sneered.

“Save it.  I have no use for your empty words.”

“They are not-”

Thor whirled on him abruptly as they reached Thor’s room.  “How many times must I say it?  It does not matter.  You are not my brother, and even if your mad tales are to be believed, you never were.  Not because we shared no blood, but because you wished me gone.  You can speak as prettily as you like, Silver-tongue, it changes nothing.”

Thor sounded so like himself even in the midst of the harsh words that it took Loki aback.  He was not so distracted as not to notice something.  “Silver-tongue.  Where did you hear that name?”

Thor seemed confused that Loki focused on that rather than his words.  “I…I don’t know, it came to mind.”

“In our last life, it was a title I carried.  Loki Silvertongue.  Lie-smith.  Trickster.”  Loki watched Thor’s expression carefully for any hint of recognition.

But Thor’s lip only curled lightly as he said.  “At least two of those are fitting.”

Loki tried not to feel disappointed and failed.  “I do not ask your forgiveness, Thor.  Or even…that you…” his throat threatened to close and he swallowed hard.  “Name me brother again…but it is likely I will need your help and belief to restore to you what is yours.  You are…beloved of our-of your-parents.  Your people.”

Thor seemed to notice the change of claim on Loki’s part.  “I thought you identified as Asgardian, in this fantasy you speak of.”

Loki’s instinct in the face of potential honesty was to fall silent or grow defensive.  But whether honesty would gain him any ground with Thor, lying or pushing back would lose him any sliver he might yet receive.  “…When I left our world, I felt as though I belonged nowhere.”  Loki admitted.  “Neither Jotnar nor Asgardian…I was alone.”

Thor’s expression was unreadable and after a pause he asked.  “What of Frigga?  And who you claim I was?”

Loki felt a strange rush of remorse wash over in that moment.  As a Thor who neither loved nor remembered him asked Loki to explain why he’d felt alone.  “You brought me to Asgard in chains.”  he said quietly.  “You said nothing in my defense.  Before Odin sentenced me…he said I lived only because of Mother and that I would never see her again.  That my birth right was to die upon a rock.”

“You spoke of crimes.”  Thor said as he tried to recall what the Aesir had said after taking him from The Collector.

“I…”  Loki hesitated as he debated how much to reveal.  Well, he need not mention the Destroyer nor attempting to turn the Bifrost on Jotunheim, it was enough of a crime to speak of what he’d done for Thanos.  “Attacked Midgard.  Mortal lives were lost.”

Thor seemed briefly surprised and then something like malicious amusement danced in his expression.  “Perhaps you are a son of Laufey after all.  A failed attempt to conquer Midgard, bested by the House of Odin.”  He seemed to think the words would rile Loki but instead the other man only slumped slightly with a weary air.

“Perhaps that’s all I ever was.”  Loki said, so quietly it might have been a whisper.

And yet he hadn’t been, had he?  Once, he had been a son of Odin, once he had been a brother of Thor, once he had been a prince of Asgard.

Loki had thrown it all away, he had burned his life-however fictional-with his own hands and now here he was desperate for the miserable reality he’d scorned.

“If I was so poor a brother, and your life was so terrible, why would you throw away your little wish?”  Thor asked.

Loki blinked as he found his eyes wet and he ducked his head.  Any answer he might give lodged in his throat and it was all he could do to make a pained noise when he tried to speak.  Loki nearly gasped as he jerked his head up when he found a cold palm against his neck and saw Thor’s puzzled expression.  Thor gripped Loki’s neck in their gesture of affection, cold instead of warm, and lacking something vital.  The true sentiment behind it.  Thor seemed almost confused by his own action given how he had gone from staring at Loki’s face to staring at his hand on Loki’s neck as if surprised to find it there.

Loki’s chest ached with desperate longing and regret.  He would give anything for this gesture to mean something between them again.  Loki would take Thor’s rage, or his demands, or his frustration.  If only it was his brother before him.  “Because I love him.”  The words came out unbidden, an admission he was helpless against making given the circumstances.  “Because for all the pain between us he was still my brother.  I know it will make no sense, given what I have done.  Thor drove me mad, I hated him so deeply at times there was hardly room in me to draw breath.  But…he…”  Loki’s hand moved unconsciously to his chest as he gripped at his tunic and a few tears slipped out.  “His absence hurts worse than his presence ever did.  I cannot bear it, brother.”  he whispered.

Thor’s thumb moved to swipe at a tear under Loki’s eye as he stared at the other man with a frown.  Loki’s words tugged at something in him, the sight of Loki in visible pain made him…uncomfortable?  He should have felt that the Aesir prince was pathetic, he should have taken the opportunity to mock him or think Loki mad.  But Thor took no pleasure in Loki’s tears and grief.  Loki’s name was heavy on his tongue as some instinct in him wished to offer comfort.

The thought alone caused him to withdraw his hand in a sudden snatch that left Loki with a wounded expression.  The Odinson was an enemy, he held Thor all but captive, and Thor didn’t know what sorcery Loki worked to manipulate him but surely there was a spell afoot because Thor did not wish to comfort the son of Odin.  Thor clenched the hand that held Loki’s neck at his side.  “Truth or madness, does not matter.”

Loki blinked rapidly and seemed to fumble for his words before he forced a thin smile to his lips.  “Good night, Thor.”  he said, in an almost-convincing tone of calm cheer.  “I wish you pleasant dreams.”  he turned without waiting for a response as he all but fled to his room.  Loki could not make it to his bed before he fell to his knees with his palms flat on the ground as he let out a ragged breath.  A truth spoken carried a different kind of weight, and Thor’s reaction had left him aching.  His Thor, if it was even fair to call him such, was in there somewhere.  Thor had not even known what that gesture was when he’d caught a glimpse of it in the memories Loki showed.  But when Loki shed tears, there had been Thor’s hand on his neck.  His brother had been weak to his tears once, perhaps he still had been.  Thor asked him to come home and offered him aid on Midgard, and both times Loki’s eyes were wet.

Remember me.  Loki begged in his mind and from the depths of his heart.  Please, brother.  Please…

The sting of being forgotten was sharp indeed, and Loki gave up any effort to rise as he lay with his back on the floor and stared listlessly at the ceiling.

“What is wrong, little brother?”  A young Thor asked worriedly in his mind’s eye.  The little golden-haired prince slipped into bed next to the curled up Loki as he sniffed.  Thor was quick to pull Loki against him as he nuzzled and gripped his little brother comfortingly.  “It’s okay, Loki.  I have you.  I am here."

Loki pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes as he let out a sad, tired laugh and cried.

He would give all the universe for it to be so again.

--xx--

Thor watched the Aesir prince leave before he went back into ‘his’ room.  He glanced down at his palm as he clenched and unclenched his fingers.  Loki’s neck had been warm and soft beneath his palm.  The grip felt…it felt familiar.  He felt restless and wandered the room before he made his way to the restroom where the reflective ice, Loki had called it a ‘mirror’, lined the wall.  Thor stared at himself.  A runt of a Jotun with golden hair and mismatched eyes.  He thought of the form he’d shown the little Aesir boy and he pulled the other skin on without a thought.  An Aesir man stared back at him, blue-eyed and tanned, with none of his kin lines.  Thor thought back to the illusions Loki had shown him as he focused and tried to fashion his face to match.  He was less bulky than that ‘Thor’, but he managed to use his trick to put a similar thatch of hair on his chin.

Thor studied himself and watched his own mouth as he spoke.  “Thor…Odinson.”

But no sooner had he spoken the name than he scowled at his reflection and let the false Thor bleed away.  Thor was Laufeyson, Thor was a Jotun, he was not some fattened Aesir princeling.

Thor had the sudden impulse to strike the mirror with his fist but stayed his hand.  It was unlike him to react that way, and he was not sure where the feeling came from.  Thor was being too influenced by the Asgardians, by that trickster sorcerer Loki.

He knew who he really was, Thor would not lose himself to the other man’s strange fantasies.  Thor would not be moved by Loki’s tears again.